


The Potential for Greatness

by InspireTheFire



Series: Her Potential Series [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Bad Ending, Bad Flirting, Bad Puns, Bad ass OFC, Bromance, Cowboy MC?, Falling In Love, Fighting, Fucking fast af burn, How Do I Tag, I am warning you, Like, Love, Major Character Injury, Quick Burn, Romance, Secret Farming, Sokovia, Tissue Warning, but its cute, my boys - Freeform, slow burn?, yeah right!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 04:32:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13733208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InspireTheFire/pseuds/InspireTheFire
Summary: Dallas Mary James, Age of 23, was forever an Orphan.Fostered and alone on the outskirts of a NYC she survived by living on an abandoned farm and after years of work, turned it into a successful Farm.But Dallas has a secret... She's gifted.Dallas has the ability to harness the Potential energy around her and turn it into Kinetic energy, bending it into a form of her imagination.When Dallas takes a business/vacation  trip in The Big Apple she accidentally is exposed. Taken by shield she's forced to explain her situation over and over again.Until all hell breaks loose.As she joins the Avengers (and friends) to stop the conscious machine known as Ultron, she will be forced to face a past as full of gaps as the Grand Canyon, push herself past her Mental and Physical limits, And face feelings long been forced deep inside as she catches the attention of a Hero.Will she fall and crumble under the pressure?Or does she truly have the Potential for Greatness.





	The Potential for Greatness

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for picking this up. not literally of course cuz it's digital and all... anyways, hope you enjoy my fic! I wrote this forever ago on Wattpad and it was one of the few stories I've ever written. I'm hoping by putting it here, it'll motivate me to rewrite and actually edit some of my works. Since I have a ton and they do nothing but collect dust on my computer, taking up space. Hopefully, you'll hear more from me. Check out my other works, I do almost every fandom out there. LMAO, what a geek ammiright?

A woman on the back of a black stallion goes riding into a medium sized barn at full speed. The horse digs in its feet and rears up on its back legs, almost tossing its owner of the back but she holds on and once the stallion is on all four legs she jumps off and takes its reins tightly, leading it towards its pen. She pens it in and takes the scarf hanging in the corner, wrapping it around the horse's eyes carefully but firmly. She didn't need the stallion making the other animals anymore nervous than they were at the upcoming storm.

She grimaces as the wind picks up once more, howling like a lone wolf and slamming the shutters open and shut. She could smell the shift in the wind as soon as it hit her. She was on a leisurely ride through the expansive forest surrounding her farm and the wind twisted around its neck fast enough to cause whiplash. When she smelled it she booked for the stable. By the time she returned, the cattle had huddled inside their pens, knowing the barn was the only safety. She only had to run around and close the doors, locking them along with the windows, successfully securing the livestock in their houses. The chickens and my ducks were already in their respective houses, leaving only the greenhouse to be locked down. She didn't know how much damage the window and rain would cause but she knew it wouldn't be enough to dim her spirits or those of her animals. Her farm was resilient, made for the creatures that survived despite the odds. It was built on the grounds of an abandoned hunting cabin due to its inaccessibility and the lack of any real wildlife around since the deer mating trail was a couple miles north of the cabin. Not worth hiking to, for sure.

She found it buy purposeful accident. When long ago she was a young adult looking for a place to lay low, she heard from a man of an exciting new cabin underway in the woods. Which led her to find the abandoned one, the one with multiple hazards, that no one cared enough to tare down. It quickly became her home, known by none of the animals she adopted to populate it. Animals that otherwise would have been euthanized. Goat with twisted limbs, chickens with broken beaks and a horse that was slowly losing sight in one eye. She called the horse 'Bullseye'. A joke she laughed at herself for. Horses didn't understand after all. However nice animal companionship was, Dallas felt herself losing touch with reality, more specifically, missing the contact of other human beings.

21 years ago her parents left her freezing and dying in a small town on the outskirts of New York and Rhode Island. She was raised by two old nuns who ran a small orphanage and stayed there for most her life before she ran away at the age of 18. After wandering, stealing, staying at homeless shelters and acquiring trade through odd jobs. She found a purpose in her farm. Now she wanted to find her new purpose. But as she sat, safe inside her refurbished home, looking out at her farm, she felt a twinge of guilt at wanting to leave.

The plants she grew with complete stubbornness blew and bent under the wind. The rain slapping the window pane on the greenhouse, completely cleaned and revived by her elbow grease. She heard the nervous bleats and clucks of her animals, rescued and nursed by her own hand and compassion. She wondered how anyone could give up a life as self-fulfilling and successful as she considered hers to be. But as she looked at her dream catcher journal, one of the only possessions from her old life, she remembered the list she made for herself when she was 16. Go to the city, get a job, go to college, meet friends, find a passion, dabble in a hobby, see an art museum... She knew those were dreams she couldn't just give up on.

Growing up surrounded by Women of Faith influenced her behavior and ethics in very opposite ways. On one hand, she had an attitude and goals for herself that Mother Teresa would have described as greedy in Gods eyes. ON the other, she couldn't bear to give up the innocent lives of her animals. Life was precious. Growing up on the streets proved as such to her. Maybe once a weak she would see a body on the dirty ground or other orphans clawing each other's eyes out for scraps and she wondered how people with nothing could wish even more misery on each other. SHe couldn't inflict that pain on her animals.

Having decided that for the day she turned from her window and sat at her desk, writing down her events and promptly ending the short journal entry with 'Storm in progress...'. She turned from the journal to her kitchen and walked over. She didn't have electricity or gas to light the stove properly but she could build fires pretty well and the grates she used to keep her pot up and even on the metal. She boiled the vegetables she made and unwrapped the bread she made the day before. Grain she had bought from the market in exchange for her best apples. Apples that she didn't personally plant but had been growing relentlessly on the farm long since she arrived. 

SHe pulled out a jar of canned apples and ate that along with her dinner. She ate like that regularly, sometimes having eggs from her poachers or fish from the lake but she knew that whatever she ate that day had to be captured that day or the day before. The meat went bad fast without a proper refrigerator and she learned that the hard way after three cases of food poisoning.

She got up again and walked upstairs to her own room. The house was big and empty, especially for a girl living by herself. She walked into her bedroom and sat on her bed, thinking heavily. She should really get some sleep, but she was worried about the farm. As she sat there she could hardly keep her eyes open and her exhaustion won over her body. But before she crawled into bed… she reached under the bed and pulled out a black suitcase, dusty and worn and caked with mud. She fingered with the tag on the handle, ‘Dallas Holly James’ the bag said, and it was illuminated in plastic. She flicked it aside and opened the front zipper, dropping the cover on the other side of the suitcase she looked inside.

Leaning over the bag she pulled off the top item. The American flag, folded into a triangle and looking older than dirt itself. She didn’t know where it was from, but the nuns found her wrapped in it. She placed it aside and picked up the black pistol next, placing it beside her on the bed and moving on. She found what she was looking for and pulled it out. She opens the wallet and reaches into the brown leather. Her license, her debit card; long since unused, and lastly a picture.

In the picture stood a younger version of herself. It was taken in Dallas, Texas, the most populated city in Texas and it was taken on the day of her birth. The sun was shining and it was spectacularly dry. But Dallas was beaming in the picture, her eyes squinting at the camera and her face cracked in a mid-laugh. Her wild curly hair braided to the side and her hat off, flopping from her hand that waved high in the air while her other rested by her side, holding sunglasses. She was wearing blue overall shorts and a white tee underneath. Her hightops were bright blue and dirty from all the walking. 

The edges of the photo were bent and the top right corner was water damaged. The picture held a hint of sadness as well as joy for it was Dallas’ one true friend. He sort of, guardian angle nun, that had taken that picture, a month before she died of ovarian cancer. Dallas hadn’t known the woman was sick, the woman that had taken care of the girl since she showed up wrapped in an American flag at the covenant. She only knew that one day she heard her friend was sick and the next, she was running away from the church, taking the quickest train back to Dallas, hoping it was all a sad joke and her angle was waiting for her back in the city. 

It wasn’t a joke. And there was nothing for Dallas in the humid south so she came back north. 

‘I told you I would be great.’ 

As she thought to herself she could hear the woman's voice in her head now.

‘I never doubted you, little babe.’

She packed up the suitcase, leaving out the pistol and her wallet. She would both, after all, she was going to the Big Apple.


End file.
